Prompt

Video Prompt!

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=e4dT8FJ2GE0

6 people singing an Icelandic hymn in a German train station with excellent acoustics.

If there was one phrase Rael learned to dread, it was any variation on, “Let me get my axe,” from Ambassador Shayde. On one hand, it meant something historical was going to happen. On the other hand, it meant that she would gather crowds.

And there was always at least one who thought he was part of the show.

But not this time.

It was one of the spontaneous instances of Human Music that he’d heard of, but never seen. Two fellow citizens waiting for the transit started harmonising. An old tune about plants, reminiscent of the season’s celebrations.

Although what parasitic weeds had to do with Terran Christmas, he could never figure.

Shayde provided the backup music and more harmonies. And three more completely random humans joined in. Rael recognised people from five disparate planets. Some of whom were busy bickering with each other via extended trade negotiations.

It was simultaneously profound and ridiculous, as so many human things often were.

They sung the song flawlessly, in old pre-shattering English. And finished to the applause and raining Minutes of the audience.

“What do we play next, then?” asked Shayde.

And then it turned out that none of them actually spoke pre-shattering English. At least, not the way Shayde did. Some barely spoke GalStand. And yet, all seven of them came to a consensus and communicated their desire.

“Falala!”

“Falala?”

“FALALA!”

Shayde just cackled and lead them in.

“DECK the halls with boughs of holly! Falala lala la la la la…”

Another old Terran song with mystifying traditions. And few of the singers understood the words.

Humans… they were so… weird.

[Muse food remaining: 14. Submit a prompt! Ask a question! Buy my stories!]

(Inspired by one of your older works)

A “What, Ho!” scene.

[AN: For those unfamiliar with the topic, check out my fanfic Misfits]

The cogniscent tree people of Kumonjagotabijokin had a very peculiar life cycle. For a start, they planted the fruit of the Elder Trees and raised the resulting sproutlings as their own.

And, unfortunately for Aerin, crash landings did not come with tourist pamphlets. The world was pre-industrial and definitely pre-spaceflight, so common etiquette decreed the entire world be left

Image prompt: FWOOM

[AN: Image shows a younger person lighting gas at ceiling level using a match on a stick while an older person watches]

Of all the weird scavengers Lynn the Hitcher ever met, Barstow had to take the cake. It wasn’t just that Barstow kept canaries in their own aviary on her patchwork ship. It was also that she had an entire hold dedicated to pressurised air.

“I’m claustrophobic,” Barstow confessed. “Lifesuits freak

Marmite.

Normally, M'riik loved living and working on a relatively small station. It was peaceful and the views were always amazing. But there were times, like now, when living and working on a relatively small station was a pain in the anatomy.

The freighter had diverted from its logged course because of engine trouble, which meant paperwork and a freight inspection to make sure nothing was going to escape while the two vessels shared air.

Normally, a vacuum-sealed cargo hold would go

A Gyiik discovers the food Elvis ate.

Vic reached hungrily for the cellulose sheet.

“Ut,” said the Archivaas Tiel, drawing it back to her body. “Payment first. I know how you Gyiiks get with new recipes. I learned after the first time.”

“My apologies,” Vic the Gyiik began to lay out her money. “Two Months plus hazard pay… and a voucher card for two Years’ worth of free meals at Unsuitable Food Eat.

Pic prompt!

[Picture shows a tree that has grown around some war debris. The most prominent piece resembles a stick insect.]

It was another ghost world. Cheryl hated ghost worlds. There was always a chance, a slim and gut-wrenching chance, that there were survivors, somewhere far away from the relics of past civilisation. Bombed back to the stone age. Or further.

Nomadic gatherer-hunters were hard to find with orbital scanners.

There weren’t many buildings standing, any more. Forests had come

Tossing Cows: The act of thoroughly derailing a train of thought, deliberately or not.

Yubsid was meant to be clerking. It was relatively mindless copy-work. Input this data into those fields. Nothing much in the way of brain power, just check that the right data was in the right place and mark the last entry so she didn’t get confused.

When she took a miniature health break to stretch herself or ensure that her digits got all their requisite exercise,

They had never expected to be able to describe someone speaking as booming hesitantly, but that’s exactly what it sounded like.

The Ambassador for Gargantua was large, even for large cogniscents. He could easily intimidate a terran bear. He was all muscle and looked like he could conquer the universe.

And he was about to make his introductory speech.

“Er…” he boomed. “My name… is… Um. Grigri. Yes. Uh. I… was… an asteroid

Humans may be rendered almost catatonic by careful scritches in the correct place - under the cranial hair, behind the ears and along the spine.

Important note: Although this technique can turn almost any human docile, 70% of the time it also makes it harder to escape, as ceasing the technique can lead to your human grabbing one of your limbs, even when partially asleep. As a human’s grip is nigh unbreakable even at rest, it is advised you use this

“I like women who are old enough to have had a little experience, and still young enough to want a little more.”

“Seriously?” said Shayde. “That’s what yer goin’ with today?”

“Oops. I thought you were older. It’s the hair. Not that there’s anything wrong with your hair. Ah crap. If I try to eat my foot, would it get less uncomfortable?”

“Ah, na. Keep diggin&